Secret Santa 2010
by The Slytherin Corner
Summary: Submissions for the Secret Santa 2010- because 'tis the season to be jolly!
1. fragile in their impossibility Leesha

fragile in their impossibility**  
LilyJames, for Leesha**

_Look, over there. You see that girl?_

_That's Lily._

That's her.

* * *

That girl, that Lily Evans…

Oh, how she hates him. But _oh_, how she fascinates him.

She's the shy, nerdy one in his house. She's the one people laugh at, and he laughs too, guiltily.

(Because "just look at that loner")

("She'll never get a boyfriend")

("Who would even _notice_ her?")

And he feels kind of awful, because he never really noticed her, not until now.

So he goes out of his way to talk to her, and there begins this _relationship_ of theirs.

She's friends with the Snape boy, which is why she hates him, he guesses. That evil Slytherin was probably filling her ears with all sorts of darkness, badness.

He persists with her, anyway. And by god, does he get her attention.

* * *

"Hey, Evans-"

"Go away."

"Just one date!"

"Go AWAY!"

He watches her back as she walks away, and he doesn't know what he's doing wrong.

But give up? Never. Not while he's a Gryffindor.

Not while he's James Potter, and don't you forget that name.

* * *

They're the kings of the school, those four boys. They walk around in their superiority, and people smile at them as they walk past, because they're the very epitome of popularity, and why _shouldn't_ everyone want to know them?

But it's a little bit of fear, too, because they're just _ohso_powerful, and, laid bare, they're not much more than bullies, even Lupin.

Oh, but the bonds between those boys are such that cannot be truly broken, and they hold each other up while pulling others down. So they try to help him get this Evans girl, each in their own special way.

Sirius is full of pick-up lines, confidence boosters and tales of his own broom-cupboard conquests, and James goes to him first, because they're bestbest friends, JamesandSirius, and James trusts him with everything. And besides: Sirius has the _experience_ with girls, doesn't he?

But that Remus- he's the intelligent one, you know. So he advises James to be a gentleman, to play nice, and to be himself- "_but not _too_ much_." James listens and he tries, of course he does, but he can't help that little piece of cockiness when he's around Lily, and he fail, fail, fails.

Peter, he gives the counsel that maybe James should have listened to, because it would have saved him a whole lot of heartache.

But who listens to _Wormtail_?

("_Give up, James_")

* * *

Then, one day, they're something.

It starts so quietly, that if he hadn't been watching so damn closely then he might not have noticed. But James' eyes just go to her, and they have done so often that he detects even the slightest change.

It advances over a month or so, when the end of their sixth year is nearing. She's more restless, fidgety. Her fingers fumble nervously in her hair until she starts wearing it up in irritation.

(Her neck is pale, swan-like, _ohso_sexy)

He misses her over holidays, like always- misses her face, her voice, her anger.

But here's the thing: she misses him, too, and he knows because she sends him something.

It's a birthday card, short and simple, the usual "_dear-James-happy-birthday-from-Lily_", but, bland as the message may be, it holds so much more meaning for him, because it's a symbol, a symbol that finally, she might just have noticed something back.

(But she's always noticed him, even before whatever this relationship they have is started, and it was always hatred-noticing)

(But life is _changing_)

* * *

He's Head Boy, and it's not quite a surprise. Yeah, he's part of the four biggest trouble-makers in the school, and yeah, maybe he's not the most responsible of people, but he's a natural-born leader, and this position just feels _right_.

And when she finds out, Lily pretends to be furious and confused, and she wonders aloud why it wasn't Remus, but she's not surprised, either, not really.

It turns out that team-work isn't their _thing_, not for either of them, but for some reason they fit together, and it's all going to be OK.

Because they're _LilyandJames_, and, in the midst of being perfect opposites, they fall in love. They forge a friendship, which is weak at first, but it grows strong, and soon they're so much more than almost-something.

All his dreams are coming true, and when he leaves school and starts to fight, for the country, for freedom, for justice, for his loved ones, she's the one supporting him, fighting in her own way in St. Mungo's and believing in those four boys with all her strongstrong heart.

* * *

"Don't you dare give up, Potter, you stupid boy!"

She's dynamic as she yells at him, channelling her shock and hurt into this burning anger (to stop those tears).

She's a beautiful whirlwind of a disaster, and she's falling apart.

He doesn't even try to hide his sorrow.

"But what else can I do, Lily? Tell me! You've messed me up, and I just can't live like this anymore!"

His hands fist in his hair, clutching at the messy black locks, and she hates herself for wishing they were in _her_ hair.

He leans closer, pain evident in his eyes.

"There's a war on, Lily."

"_Selfish_!" she shrieks, not realising as she takes on the look of her sister. "Selfishness! What about me, James?"

"THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT!" he bellows, and then cringes internally as she shrinks slightly from him. "Because I fucking _love_ you," he sighs, "And I can't concentrate on fighting when you're around."

She can't bear the look of defeat in his eyes. "Fight _with_ me, then! I can fight!" She can't help it- she wraps her arms around him desperately.

He knows he has no choice. Because if she (ohgod) fought, then she might… (ohgod)… _die_. He buries his face into her hair, wetting the red fire with his tears.

"_Lily_," he says, and it's an agonised whisper. "I- I can't."

Gently, he detaches himself from him and backs away, out of the flat.

She falls to the floor in shock. And, finally, the tears come.

* * *

A year passes, a year and a half, two years, and still they're nothing. She worries, he worries, and they both keep on fighting, missing each other all the time.

He starts to lose himself, just a little. He gets through the day by doing what he loves; fighting and saving and just losing himself in the glory and the belief and the dream of a better world.

He blunders through the night in the safety of welcoming arms and long legs and heatheatheat in bars and pubs.

Lily just works her heart out, and tries to be strong on the occasions that her patients don't survive, but she blames herself for their deaths, and she starts to hate the world and the war.

* * *

It's Sirius that sorts them out. He can't stand to see James destroying himself like this- James is his best friend, his brother, and he needs James' friendship in his life, not this workaholic idiot that is all his friend has become.

Sirius has seen a lot in the past few years. He's fought. He's nearly died. He's nearly killed, on several occasions.

And he knows, he knows that any one of them could die right now. Remus, Pete, James, even Lily. This is a war, and they are soldiers.

Soldiers can't afford to fight with the ones they love.

So some_how_, _some_how, he forges a rusty connection between James and Lily. It's hard work, but it's worth it, because he can see the love they share, and he feels good, knowing that he is a part of making that love _something_ once again.

At first they don't want to see each other. It starts with sad eyes and gentle pleading, but soon enough it turns in blazing arguments, hand waving, tears. But he's Sirius, and goddammit if he's going to give up or something, so he keeps fighting for them, with them, and soon enough they're all sat in a muggle café.

* * *

"…Hi," she speaks first, and it's no more than a whisper.

He doesn't reply- he's too busy staring.

Their hands find each other under the table, and Sirius leaves them to their tentative reunion.

* * *

This relationship of theirs, this complex, ridiculous relationship, it starts up again slowly, almost painfully, and they both agree not to make it serious, to take it slow.

But they're in love, and they're so damn Gryffindor that they just can't help themselves. They become as happy as it seems is possible in the midst of a war, and the trials they face are hard, but they know they can make it, this couple living in their perfectly fucked-up cliché.

They're married within the year, and it's a burst of happiness and celebration that for once is not ruined by death and heartbreak.

* * *

They're moment of bliss can't last, though, can it? But wrapped up in each other, they begin to forget the world, until they've become so selfish that all that matters is their relationship, their marriage, their moment. Sirius and Remus despair of them, and Peter is pushed almost completely from the equation.

Finally, something happens to wake them up from their stupor.

Harry arrives.

And then it's not about them. It's all about HarryHarryHarry, and even through their selfishness they begin to see what they've become.

Reunited with Sirius, James throws himself back into fighting with a passion, aiding the war effort in every way he can, while Lily is by his side once again, fighting in the makeshift hospitals she sets up and trying to make the world a better place for him, for Harry.

They both thought that they could love nothing more than the other.

Look how wrong they are.

* * *

When their story ends, it's not as loudly as the lives of passion and fury that they've led all these years. It's so quiet, gentle, that it could render you to tears and fill you with hope at the same time. Because they die for their son, and that's what matters.

They die in the knowledge that they've made a difference, and they hope Sirius, Remus and Peter (because they never forgot him, not really) won't mourn them.

And as their tale fades to a conclusion, another begins.


	2. whispered words Nanii

**Secret Santa 2010 - for Nanii**

**Rose/Scorpius**

You were told _"Don't get too friendly with him, Rosie,"_ so, of course, you became the best of friends. Grandad Weasley might never forgive you for marrying a pureblood, but _marry Scorp? _Yes, he was your bestbest friend, but you wouldn't marry him, he was like your _brother_.

You were eleven when you met him, and by the time you were twelve you had put the animosity aside and become inseparable. Even Lily's arrival at Hogwarts didn't stop the two of you being together, no matter how many times your mother wrote to you, telling you to _"spend some time with Lily, she's having a hard time adjusting."_

But Lily was a Slytherin, you were a Gryffindor and you were in different years too, so you _didn't have the opportunity_, or so you told your mother, every time she asked. Of course, Scorpius being in Slytherin didn't stop you from seeing him, but you could never let your parents find out how close you were, anyway.

Somehow, though, something changed, gone were the playful smiled, the easy banter. You couldn't be with Scorpius now without feeling awkward, out of place, as if you _didn't belong_. You felt jealous every time he asked a girl out, but you didn't know why because you didn't (_shouldn't_) love him.

Sometime, in your sixth year, he asked Lily out, and you felt that green eyed monster sitting on your shoulder raise its head and roar. But when she said yes, that monster paled in comparison to the pain of your heart shattering into millions of tiny pieces.

For two years you watched them be happy together, the two Slytherins, perfectly compatible for each other. Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't mix, putting the two of them together was like trying to mix oil and water, and the Slytherins always came out on top.

But they could never be completely perfect because Lily had always belonged to somebody else, the boy (or should that be _man_ now?) staring at her every time they were in a room together, his hair flashing from green to orange to brown, his heart breaking right along with yours as you watch the double act that is _Scorpius&Lily._

Teddy get's his girl though, because he's Teddy, and _everybody_ loves him. All it took were a few whispered words from you, and Lily's eyes were opened. She left Scorpius for Teddy, she left and she never looked back.

You were left to deal with Scorpius's broken heart, trying to pick up the shattered pieces and put them back together in a way that spells _Rose&Scorpius, _instead of _Scorpius&Lily, _because Lily doesn't belong to him anymore, doesn't want him anymore, but he just can't deal with that. You had thought that when Lily had skipped off into the sunset with her Prince Charming then Scorpius would look up and see you, and realise that you were the one.

It didn't work like that though, you saw him watching Lily as she shone brighter and brighter, her wild girl habits never quenched by Teddy and growing more and more into the perfect girl for Scorpius. But her love for Teddy burnt so much brighter than any love she had ever felt for Scorpius, and so she clutched Teddy's hand slightly harder, hugged Scorpius goodbye, and disappeared into the sunset to chase her happily ever after.

So you were left with Scorpius, trying to deal with his new habit of drinking firewhiskey straight from the bottle, trying to save him from the downwards spiral he was on. He wouldn't listen to you though, he was a Malfoy and their pride always had drowned out any ounce of common sense.

And when it came it wasn't beautiful, it wasn't perfect, it was a drunken mistake that he swore would never happen again. You had thought that it had meant that he loved you, that you were finally the perfect couple you had dreamed of being for so long.

But it happened, and it happened again and again, you let it because it was something, a crumb of hope for you to cling to when everything else in the world was so shit, and he let it because he was _so fucking in love with you_ but you had your eyes closed to that, darling, never thinking that he had settled for Lily as second best, never thinking that it was always you he was watching, not Lily.

He tries to make you see; you try to make him see, going round and round in the most horrific _comedy of errors _that the world had ever seen. The lipstick stains on his mugs, and the mascara stains on your pillow tell the story of an age old cliché, _Romeo&Juliet_, the star crossed lovers, but somehow, someday, you swear you'll open his eyes.

So, darling, take that bottle from him, and drink as deep as you like, because somewhere, somehow, you've opened your eyes. And he pulls you to him, and kisses you, the firewhiskey burning in your mouth, tears of pain mingling with tears of happiness, because somewhere, somehow, he's opened his eyes too.

You might never be another _Lily&Teddy_, but you're Rose&Scorpius, and that's enough for now.


	3. typical love story  Lucy

typical love story

**LucyLorcan**

**For Lucy**

**

* * *

**

Meet **Lucy Weasley**.

Brown hair, brown eyes, blue square framed glasses, not too tall, not too short, kinda **average **really.

But she has a **story **(just like you and me) and it's one of those ones that make you **sigh**.

She's in **love** with this guy, right, and surprise, surprise, she's not about to tell him. 'Cus this guy's **her best friend **and he's kinda **special** and she really doesn't want to **ruin things **between them.

But guess what?

He's in **love** with her, too and he doesn't say anything because, well, she's **his best friend **and she's kinda **special** and he really doesn't want to **ruin things **between them.

See what I mean about making you **sigh**?

So they flit around each other, pretending that **friendship** is all they want, even though, boy, they both want **so much more **than that.

'Till one day, **one hot summer's day**, suddenly they're **kissing** under a tree.

Whether it's the **heat **that's making them act this way, or just built up **emotion**, they don't know (or particularly care). All they can think about is **each other **and **this kiss **and all they can **wish** is that **this moment **will never end.

But, y'know, obviously **that moment **does end, but **they** never do.

And from then on it's **LucyandLorcan **and **LorcanandLucy**, them **together** against the world.

They get **married**. Her in a long **white dress **that trails along the floor, him in a **black suit**, white tie, both the **happiest** they've **ever** been.

They have **kids**. A boy called **Erik**, a girl called **Renee**, then another boy called **Blake**. And they **love** those kids **so much**, sometimes they feel like they'll **pop** and their **love** will **splatter** the walls.

They **grow old together**. And after **all** this time, they're still just as in **love** as they were **that day **in the **sun**.

And when they die, they die a **happy** death, **wrapped in each others arms**. Because they've had such a **great** life and they're dying together, so really they're not **leaving**, not **leaving **each other anyway and they'll always be **happy **together.

* * *

And you may find this story a waste of time 'cus **soppy** and such a **typical love story **but really this world could do with a bit of **love**, don't you think?

And it's **cute **anyway, so who cares.


	4. You had me at Hello Ria

You had me at Hello

**RoxanneLysander**

_For Ria_

* * *

Roxanne looked at her chipped pale pink nail polish. Honestly this was the most boring Christmas party she had attended. From the corner of her eye she could see her brother, Fred, making eyes at Alice Longbottom, the professors daughter.

_Good luck with that one_, she thought.

There was soft music playing. Roxanne watch her uncle Bill twirl aunt Fleur. Her gold dress spiraled around her beautifully. Victorie was currently dancing with her beloved Teddy. She was like and exact copy of her mother. She too was wearing a gold dress.

Dominique, who was more like her father, was having an animated conversation with her younger brother, Louis. Molly and Lucy were sitting at there own table secluded from everyone else. Those two normally keep to themselves. James, Al and Lily had a table with Rose and Hugo. They seemed to be having fun.

"Hello. Would you like to dance?" She looked to the owner of the smooth voice that interrupted her thoughts. He was holding out his hand.

_Silver eyes._

"My name is Lysander Scamander. And I will be very embarrassed if you don't accept my offer." Roxanne blushed and placed her hand on Lysander's.

"Sorry. I'm Roxanne Weasley."

She stood and smoothed her red dress she had worn for the occasion. Lysander walked over to the dance floor still holding Roxanne's hand. The damn butterflies in her stomach wouldn't stop fluttering.

"You looked pretty bored sitting down all by yourself there. I figured I could be of some company." He smiled. _Oh Merlin, the dimples._

"Thank you." And once again, she blushed.

"Come on dear, smile! You are at a party. You could at least pretend to have fun." She managed to fake a smile.

"Now was that so hard," he exclaimed. "Now, time to dance." And without any noticed he gave her a quick twirl. She gave a squeak and tried to keep up with his dancing.

* * *

She had never had so much fun. Not once during the dance did she ever think of anything besides Lysander. His cheeks were flushed and his dirty blond hair was a little ruffled.

Roxanne was never a dancer. So as soon as she set one foot on the dance floor people turned to stare. Fred had taken his attentions to stare at his sister. He was definitely taking on the 'big brother' role. His arms were crossed in front of him and he was staring at Lysander, eyes scrunched.

"Everyone is staring at you. You're a great dancer," she mumbled. He chuckled and shook his head.

"They are staring at you my dear. They have never seen she a lovely sight," he whispered in her ear. Her heart gave a leap.

"And it sure helps that I am the handsomest man here." She gave him a light shove.

"Cocky bastard."

He laughed so loud it was hard not to notice.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She just stared at him. She hardly ever talked, just looked. He noticed.

"You're not falling in love with me are you?" He gave her a wide smile. She rolled her eyes.

"Let's not get too cocky, shall we?"

_I'm not falling for you._

"Besides we don't want that pretty head of yours to get inflated."

_Idiot, you had me at hello._

* * *

That night she dreamt of silver eyes and dirty blond hair.

And if you could listein carfully you could hear her mumbling his name.

_Lysander_


	5. starting hopes Alice

st**a**rt**i**ng h**o**p**e**s

_(_lucy/lysander_)_

_For Alice

* * *

_

You're kind of (not really) pretty with your hair curled like that and your eyes lacking eyeliner, but you're _not_ your sister, understand, and you never will be. You keep your held head high, your spirits up, and your hopes low, because that's the only way you've known: be proud, or they'll push you down—be happy, or they'll wonder what's wrong—and don't hope, because you'll always be disappointed.

You manage to get by like this, earning the title of _Lucy, the sensible one_—when really, you're not; you never were.

It takes them a long time (for_ever_) to figure that out.

* * *

He smiles and you smile back, wondering why he's here and what he's doing, grinning at you like you're something special (you're not, and we've established that a long time ago).

Then there's the loud thuds of someone (_Molly_) hurtling down the steps, and his grin stretches and she leaps into his arms with all the grace of a dancer. You roll your eyes lightly—Molly always acts as if she doesn't see Lysander every (fucking) day.

"I'll leave you two alone, now," you say, and Molly just gives you a thankful glance.

Lysander looks a little disappointed, but you don't see it, because you're already long gone by that point.

* * *

You pick yourself up (you get over _that_ boy) and start dating (his twin) Lorcan Scamander, who is his own person, dammit, and so what if he shares Lysander's looks and smile and sparkling eyes? He's not the same—you're not that desperate.

Somehow you twist this and shove it down everyone's throats because fuckitall, it's _true_—

—somewhat.

* * *

"Lorcan."

His name—it's your lifeline, the only thing proving that you're not completely worthless.

"Lorcan."

You want him to listen; you _need_ him to listen, to have the whole truth, to know it all—

"Lorcan, I love Lysander."

You backpedal quickly, try to calm the situation, try to rephrase that awful sentence, but by the time you can, he's out the door, away from you, and the only thing he leaves behind is:

"Why?"

* * *

_Why, why, why._

Why?

_Why_ do you love Lysander? Why _do_ you love Lysander?

Maybe it's because he's untouchable. Maybe because you want him to whisper in your ears and tell you that you're pretty and say, simply, "Lucy, I love you."

Or maybe it's just because you've always wanted what Molly has.

* * *

Christmastime—decorations, bold colors, cookies, food, family—had never been your favourite time of year. Too many people, always around; that was never your style.

But this year, you're … excited? Maybe happy?

Molly seems happy, too. She's seated on the couch, next to Lysander, her legs in his lap and his legs on the rickety old ottoman. Her shell-pink lips are curved into a delighted laugh, and he's telling her a joke, probably, a grin plastered onto his face and his hair as mussed up as ever.

You shake your head and wander over to the corner where the boys used to play their stupid make-believe soldier games; because it's the only place of solace you have now, flopping down on the couch, barely looking up when someone else sinks down next to you.

"Go away," you say tiredly, and scowl when the person doesn't budge.

"Lucy," says the voice of a demonic angel, soft and concerned. "Lucy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say gruffly, looking up at him through your eyelashes in a way that's supposed to be seductive (but you know that those things never work with you). "Just claustrophobic."

Then, slowly, tentatively, warm lips are on yours, and you close your eyes, leaning in, relishing it and letting yourself just _be_.

"Merry Christmas." His breath splays across your cheekbones, and you look into his eyes—smouldering and warm.

You let yourself hope, just this once.

* * *

_fin._


	6. Delilah Reede

**a/n**: a very Merry Christmas to everybody, but most particularly to the recipient of this little fic, the only and only Delilah Reede, who is a lovely, lovely girl and I feel so honoured to know her. She's sweet and kind and funny and exactly the sort of person who deserves everything that they want. Love you, Dee.

* * *

**dark corridors and close-quarters  
**for Dee

* * *

Rose Weasley is sitting doing homework.

This should not be a surprise to you.

In fact, this should not be a surprise to _anyone. _But, naturally, her dear cousin and his stupid friend are going to pretend that it is.

"Rose, old bean!" Albus cries, crossing the common room at a near-run, dragging up a chair so he can sit nice and close next to her. "Assure me that there is no possible possibility that you are doing homework."

"Piss off, Al," Rose retorts, checking her astronomy chart for the location of Jupiter.

"She _is _doing homework," Al comments sadly to the boy who has taken a seat across from them, his grey eyes lightly amused as he watches Rose scribble furiously.

"That's because she has no life, Al," Scorpius reminds his best friend, and Albus nods in concurrence.

"Oh, yes, I forgot. We are the sole lights in her lonely life, and we were too busy playing Quidditch to remember to talk to her."

Rose raises her eyes slowly from her parchment, now almost completely covered in inky blue scribbles, and _glares _at them, brown eyes dark and dangerous under drawn brows.

"Albus," she says slowly, hand creeping towards her wand, "Please don't make me hex you. Not this close to the weekend."

"Oh, but _Rose,_" Al exclaims in despair, his green eyes wide and entreating as he blinks pathetically at her. "You need to have some _fun_, dear cousin."

"You know what, Al," Scorpius says, leaning over the table towards Rose and tilting his head to examine her face, "I don't think Rose knows the _meaning _of the word fun."

"I do too know what fun is," Rose retorts, and she'd come up with a better comeback but she's tired and she's got this whole homework to finish and, Merlin, why can't they just _leave her alone_. "It is something that occurs when neither of you two are present."

"Oh, Rosie, you're such a charmer," Al teases, and then suddenly he's dragging her to her feet, Scorpius moving to take her other side, and then without quite understand what is going on Rose is being hustled out of the common room and into the dark corridors of the school.

"Albus," she says in a low voice, teeth clenched, "Where are you taking me?"

"To the kitchens, Rose," Scorpius informs her, and Rose ignores the butterflies in her stomach at the realisation that his hand is wrapped around her arm (and yeah, she's pathetic) and instead focuses on that irrational fury that rises up inside her whenever he's around.

"And why would that be, _Malfoy_?" she inquires in a low voice, eyes almost sparking as she turns her head towards him.

"Because you're grumpy," Al chips in cheerily, sounding like he's about to burst out into song or something. "And food makes grumpy girls into happy ones."

And, holy crap, Albus is actually turning into a ninety-year-old man who belongs in the Dark Ages.

"For Merlin's sake," she grumbles, giving up on trying to escape and instead allowing herself to be tugged through the sleeping school. "Remind me why I'm friends with you guys again?"

"Because we're amazing," Scorpius replies matter-of-factly, yanking her casually around a corner. "You couldn't stay away from us if you tried."

"Or something like that," she mutters in reply, and she's just about starting to think that maybe this isn't such a bad idea when Albus gives her an almighty shove sideways and topples both her and Scorpius into a broom cupboard.

"Malfoy, get your elbow out of my stomach right now or so help me I will not be held responsible for my actions!" Rose hisses, glaring at his face over the two-inch distance that now separates them thanks to Al's inexplicable actions.

In response, Scorpius clamps a hand over her mouth.

Behind the hand, Rose explodes in a fit of swearwords, until he brings his face even closer to hers and whispers, "Would you just shut up? Clepps is coming, that's why Al chucked us in here!"

"Then why isn't he in here too?" Rose inquires, removing his hand from her face. "He needs to hide!"

"In case you haven't noticed, Weasley," Scorpius replies, vainly attempting to disentangle his left leg from her robes, "it's not exactly spacious in here."

"Yeah, I sort of guessed that when you shoved your elbow into my gut," she retorts, and then suddenly they both hush instantly, slowing their breathing right down as they hear the old school caretaker, Clepps, walking creakily past their cupboard, able to see the light of his upheld lantern through the cracks in the door.

They barely breathe as he pauses, but then some noise distracts him further up and he disappears off after it like a dog on the scent.

"Phew, he's gone," Rose says eventually, suddenly very conscious of the fact that she's pressed right up against Scorpius, touching almost everywhere, and that her hair is falling into his face and he's not even complaining. In fact, when she looks at his face, he's almost looking… content, or something. "Comfortable there, Malfoy?"

"Oh, yes, decidedly," he replies smoothly, his face back to impassive almost instantly. "What with the whole inch of space I've got and all."

"Merlin, let's just get out of here and go back to the common room, alright?" she says with an eye roll, managing to lever herself into an almost-upright position, reaching down to give him a hand to his feet. He accepts, grudgingly, and soon they are both standing with the moonlight that is falling into the corridor slanting over both of their faces, their breath stirring the still air, and as Rose goes for the handle of the door she miscalculates and her hand slides up against Scorpius' ribcage.

At that point, with his eyes very dark and hungry and the whole of the rest of the world ceasing to exist for her, it seems very natural for her to accept his kiss with alacrity, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and pulling him downwards, stumbling against the wall of the cupboard.

They are not disturbed until they hear a voice saying, "Sweet Merlin!" just outside the cupboard, and then they break apart hurriedly and rearrange clothing just in time for Al to tug both doors open.

"That was close," he announces with a grin, reaching in to tug them both out. "I'm impressed you two didn't kill each other."

"Yeah, we're going to give the whole enemies-angle a rethink," Scorpius informs him, turning to Rose with one eyebrow raised. "Save us energy with OWLs coming up and all."

"I can't afford to be distracted from my homework by arguments any more," Rose adds when Albus looks terribly confused, unsure whether to believe his friend or not. "So the neutral-thing will probably work in my favour."

And with that, they turn massive grins on Al and grab him, dragging him down towards the kitchens as he cries obscenities at them, trying to get them to tell him what on earth brought this newfound peace into being.

Their eyes meet behind his back and they smile at each other, almost shyly, Rose's eyes darting away quickly to focus on a painting.

Scorpius turns back to the empty, dark corridor, a small smile travelling across his lips.


	7. this is love Ellie

**.this is love****.**_  
_[ _for ellie_ ]_  
_

_

* * *

_

He knows there is something different about her. It is strange and unknown and electrifying, like bungee-jumping for the first time. He wants to dive in head first—he always has—but this time, there's something holding him back.

He knows it's different; _she_'s different. He knows there will be plenty who'll see it as wrong, as immoral, but when was love safe? When did love play by the rules? When did love ever have limits? Yes, it is wrong in a way, but this is different.

When he sees her long hair, reflecting the weak winter sunlight as she dances into their house in the morning, he can't help but smile. When he catches her brilliant silver eyes as they stare at him speculatively, he glows inside. And when she smiles at him, he is blinded, and he can feel his insides burning.

But he notices that her stares are longer when those eyes land on Harry Potter. He notices that the smiles are wider, and the long hair seem to dance whenever she sees the Boy Who Lived.

And all of a sudden, he feels envious of the Chosen One.

He's used to having the girls after him. He was tipped to become the next Seeker for England while he was at Hogwarts; he knew the appeal of being a top Quidditch player attracted plenty of girls. There had been the fans, the adoration, the banners of proclamations of love, but he'd never been distracted by them, never paid more than necessary attention to them. He knew that they were only after one thing, and if Gryffindor ever lost the match, they'd turn against him.

When he'd graduated, and went on to Romania to study and work on dragons, again, his appeal to the women was strong. They all liked the idea of a dragon-tamer in their bed—the raw power in his muscles, the way fire seemed to burn in his eyes, the burns that sexily tattooed his body.

But again, he had ignored them. When he grew old and lost the force he carried within him, they would desert him, searching for someone new, never satisfied with what they had. So he carried on with his work, convinced that he'd die with the dragons, not with a loving and beloved wife crying over his dead body.

It's an incredibly strange feeling for him, to be jealous of someone else. He's learned from a very young age to be satisfied with what he has. He's lived like that for all thirty-three years of his life. And then one person changed him, changed the way he lived his life.

Suddenly, he isn't satisfied anymore. He wants to impress her, he wants to be the one she smiles at the most, he wants to be the one her eyes would search for. He wants _her_.

So he does what he can to move Harry Potter out of the picture. He encourages the Boy Who Lived to propose to his younger sister, because he knows they are truly in love with one another, and besides, they'd been together for six years already. He tells Harry that the wizarding world would be safe for now—relax a little, stop working so hard, build a family.

And when Harry and Ginny marry, he moves closer to her, hoping that now Harry is married, she'd turn her affections to him. What he doesn't expect is for her to run away, using the excuse of Yvellines to escape the humiliation she feels for liking a man she was _well_ aware of being beyond her reach.

And when he says goodbye to her that cold, windy morning, she has tears in her eyes and loneliness in the set of her mouth, and he _knows_ there must be something she's feeling for him, too. But before he can say a word, she hugs him goodbye, and touches the Portkey.

Exactly four seconds later, she disappears, and he says goodbye to his heart.

* * *

He doesn't see her for four years, but when she comes back, there is celebration and joy and he can escape out of the shell he's been living in, haunted by her smile and her eyes, because the real thing is in front of him now.

She looks just like she did when she left him four years ago, just more mature, and there is a certain aged look in her eyes, as if her years at Yvellines were more than just the fun and games. And he realises he likes the change, he likes her even better as she is now.

Maybe now they can work, because she is past her teenage years, and he is convinced that she is the one for him. Maybe if he tries hard enough this time, she won't slip past his fingers ever again.

So he spends his summer with her, entertaining her and being by her side. And slowly, _slowly_, he gets through the walls she's built for herself. He learns her stories of failed relationships and broken hearts at Yvellines, and he learns she's not willing to let anyone in anymore. He promises to himself that he will try, because he knows she's worth it.

And he can see it, the sadness flickering in her eyes as she says goodbye to him again at the end of the summer. This time, he's _absolutely sure_ that he's worn her walls down, at least a little bit. And when she promises to come back next summer, his heart flies with joy, because maybe, just maybe, he'd finally get his own happy ending.

* * *

When he receives the first letter, carried by a large grey owl and contained in a powder-blue envelope with the Yvellines logo at the top left corner, he feels as though he is about to be sick. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest, and he curses himself for being so excitable. He is thirty-seven, for goodness' sake, and yet he's treating the letter as though it is the first he's ever received in his life.

When he reads the elegant handwriting within, saying she misses him already, and Yvellines just isn't the same anymore, the smile on his face widens.

When he learns that she is pining for England, which she now considers home, his heart drives a strong warm feeling through his veins.

When he sits down to reply to her letter, the warm feeling coursing within him grows stronger, engulfing him, threatening to drown him under its weight and power and sheer force.

When he lovingly prints out 'Gabrielle Delacour' on the back of the envelope containing his reply, he knows this is it.

This is what Charlie Weasley has been waiting for.

This is love.

* * *

**an. **Charlie is fifteen years older than Gabrielle. Harry is six years older than Gabrielle. Bill married when he was twenty-seven; seventeen years older than Gabrielle. Gabrielle was there at his wedding she was eleven.


	8. Letters To Home Sophie

_For Sophie_

Teddy had always been an important person in Lily's life, they had such a strong bond that Lily had even referred to him as her third brother. The first person she had written to after being sorted was Teddy, her letter to him had been longer and more in depth than the one she had sent her parents. He had written back with a letter just as long.

It was like that all through her Hogwarts years. Lily would always write to Teddy first about anything that happened. When she started struggling in Charms and Potions, her worries about trying out for the Quidditch team, her first crush, first date, even her first kiss. Teddy had known about all of them and more before her parents had.

He had been the first to know about her plans to travel after Graduation, he wrote back, trying to convince her not to go alone. But as stubborn as ever she hadn't listened. Lily had set off with excitement and adventure in her eyes.

For the first year the letters sent by Lily were long, full of stories and numerous. Each letter brought comfort not only to Teddy, but her parents and brothers. But as the second year progressed and Lily's travels continued, Teddy received fewer and fewer letters from her until they eventually stopped coming.

He still wrote to her every week, waiting and hoping for a reply but it never came. Eventually, albeit reluctantly, Teddy stopped writing to Lily as well. He kept the letters she had sent him throughout Hogwarts and prayed that she wherever she was she was safe.


	9. A Curious Girl Doll

**A Curious Girl  
- for Doll**

Sometimes secrets were best kept that way.

It wasn't that she liked lying. It wasn't that she wanted to be decieving. It wasn't that she liked the thill.

It was just that it was so easy to keep it quiet.

Nights in the broom cupboard, a romance under the stars, close electricity in the dark - she kept it quiet. That was what it was, anyway, a quiet night, nothing more. And it wasn't like anyone would ever tell. No one ever wanted to gossip about poor little Eloise, after all. She was good at hiding. Good at keeping the secrets.

Sometimes the girls surprised her. Pansy. Cho. Girls who were curious, liars, or sometimes just bored. Girls with secrets just like her.

She liked the ones who wanted the romance and the secrets as much as she did. She didn't like the quick flings. (Not that she complained.)

The thing was, even though it was sparingly (sparingly) - when people talked, it was for all the wrong reasons. Eloise was a Slytherin in that respect; she was good at getting what she wanted even when people didn't realise they were giving it to her. She wanted them to notice bad skin and stringy hair, and they did.

The girls like her were the ones that were smart enough to see - what she wanted them to see.

And then Eloise grew up, left Hogwarts, left magic, left England. And she met a boy, didn't she?

Eloise became just a normal American girl with a normal American boyfriend, but she still spent nights in broomcupboards with girls who saw through the facade.


End file.
